The Prince and The Pauper
by louisaeve
Summary: Hermione is nothing but the local dressmakers daughter, but when the Queen regent sweeps into her mother store, she finds herself suddenly and abruptly engaged to the heir to Avalie, the heir prince, Draco Malfoy.
1. Day 51

Title: The Prince and the Pauper

Author: louisaeve

Rating: T

Summary: Hermione is nothing but the local dressmakers daughter, but when the Queen regent sweeps into her mother store, she finds herself suddenly and abruptly engaged to the heir to Avalie, the heir prince, Draco Malfoy.

Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Blaise Zabini, Lavender Brown, Ginny Weasley, Narcissa Malfoy

* * *

Day 51 - The Dressmaker and Her Apprentice

Hermione shifted uncomfortably as her mother pinched and prodded at the dress that sat around her waist. "Quit fidgeting!" Her mother scolded, and poked her in the stomach to stop her movement.

Immediately Hermione stilled - her mothers fingers held needles that were pointed and sharp and, from experience, she knew hurt and were more than able to draw blood.

The dress she was wearing was for one of the upper sides girls, a Miss Brown if she recalled correctly. The girl had visited with her friend and her mother and had exclaimed loudly that she _adored_ the dresses Mrs Granger made, and as such simply _must_ have one for the new dancing and courting season. 'Luckily' Hermione and Miss Brown were the same size, and now she was standing in the back room of her mothers shop, with a purple dress on with frills and ribbons and bows and lace, which was all too decadent and extravagant for her mother, but Miss Brown had insisted.

Sighing, Hermione turned her eyes skyward, and looked at the low wooden roof, that her father had fixed himself, just last autumn.

Unfortunately, just as Mrs Granger was pinning up the hem of the dress, the doorbell rang, alerting the pair that they had a costumer. Quickly Mrs Granger stood up, pulling herself off her knees, and hurried through the doorway to the front room, where Mrs Grangers bright and vibrant creations sat in display. Hermione soon followed her, picking the skirts of the ordered dress up and moving into the main room, as her mother moved to the doorway to greet the woman who stood there.

To her greet surprise, standing in the doorway was none other than Narcissa Malfoy, the Regent Queen of Avalie.

Immediately, Hermione sunk into a curtsey, joining her mother in the motion, before the Queen shook her head and motioned for them to rise, with a flick of her hand.

"Mrs Granger," she said slowly, delicately, ensuring that she was carefully picking her words. "I was unaware you had an appointment. If you wish I can return at a later date. My business is not that important."

"No, no," Mrs Granger shook her head, her curly locks, much like Hermione's own straining against the ribbon they had been confined with. "This is just my daughter, Hermione. She was trying on a dress so that I could fit it."

"My lady," Hermione sunk into another curtsey, bowing her head, before she heard the Queen let out an exasperated sigh and a '_tsk_' sound.

"Rise," she said, and Hermione lifted herself up, making sure to keep her head bowed as was the proper ettiquette. "Look at me girl," she said, lifting Hermione's chin with her hand, and continuing to survey her, taking in her figure, her feet, her facial features, her wrists and lower arms and hands. "Is she of marrying age?" She turned to Mrs Granger, who had large eyes, a habit Hermione herself often took on.

"Y-yes," Mrs Granger nodded, with a slight stammer. "Although we were planning on allowing her to choose her own husband, when she felt fit. She has enough talent to continue the family business on her own for a couple of years."

"She is pretty," the Queen smiled, tilting her head as she took in the way the dim light shone across her cheekbones in the twilighting afternoon. The dusk was shining a starling golden light across the three women, one who looked rather aged and two who looked to be at their prime of beauty, the light highlighting them, making their halos of hair glow. "Hermione yes?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded, although she fought to keep down her own questions ('townsfolk do not ask questions Hermione!' her mothers reminders throughout the years echoing across her mind), as the Queen dropped her hand. "My mother enjoyed reading."

"You can read?" The Queen let a rather happy smile flit across the face, as she turned to face Mrs Granger.

"My father taught me," Mrs Granger smoothed out the creases on her dress. "My husband and I taught Hermione."

"So you're educated," this time Hermione was quite sure that the Queen was pleased, as the smile held its position on her face. "Your family is respectable, there are no gambling or . . . prostitution problems are there?" She turned to Mrs Granger with a perfectly arched, pale blonde eyebrow.

"No!" Mrs Granger flushed red with shame at the suggestion. "We are a _highly_ respectable sort."

"Of course, of course," the pale woman laughed lightly, as though the reaction had amused her, before she turned on her heel and paced around the room, looking at the fine silk dresses and minks placed carefully on models, with fresh flowers pinned to their collars and fake wigs, which Hermione had carefully arranged that morning.

"Your daughter, Hermione Granger, is a wholesome, young Avelién girl. She is educated, talented in the work of dressmaking, capable of respect and is quite beautiful," the Queen gave a smirk, pulling the left side of her mouth up, making the pair of townswomen feel quite bowed into terror at her power and beauty. "This is the exact type of girl that one would expect the sovereign of their country to marry, am I correct?" She turned to Mrs Granger.

"Except that Hermione is lower class!" Mrs Granger bursted out before she could help herself (showing where her daughter got her personality), as Hermione felt her eyes go wide as the reality of the situation dawned upon her.

"Nonsense!" The Queen picked up a piece of tule and fingered it between her long, manicured fingers, feeling the silken fabric that made up the frilling of the dress. "You are a decent middle class. Half of the castle of Hogwarts comes here for their gowns!"

"We have no title!" Hermione said before she could help herself, before looking at the floor, refusing to allow herself to blush. "I am sorry your Grace."

"Don't be," the Queen waved a hand, laughter tilting her tone. "I like a girl that can stand up for herself. You shall need that in the court."

"Excuse me?" Hermione's eyes went wide. "Court?"

"With your parents permission, I would like to arrange a betrothal, a marriage, between you and . . . my son," Queen Narcissa allowed her smirk to become a full fledged smile and raised her eyebrow once more. "That is if your parents accept of course."

"I will have to speak to my husband," Mrs Granger said firmly, and was met by a firm nod from the Queen, but none of the three were fooled.

How could mere townsfolk say no to the Queen? Hermione would be married to the Prince of Avalie, a one Draco Malfoy.

* * *

_Wow! I haven't written Dramione since I was . . . eleven or twelve? Nonetheless it's been a couple of years. AU's are my fav, and lately I can't seem to find enough of the decent ones, so I have had to make my own I guess? So this is kinda going loosely around the 'Princess and Pauper' fairytale, and yet it's not? Anyway hopefully a happy ending, and hopefully you will all review? _


	2. Day 50 Part 1

Title: The Prince and the Pauper

Author: louisaeve

Rating: T

Summary: Hermione is nothing but the local dressmakers daughter, but when the Queen regent sweeps into her mother store, she finds herself suddenly and abruptly engaged to the heir to Avalie, the heir prince, Draco Malfoy.

Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Blaise Zabini, Lavender Brown, Ginny Weasley, Narcissa Malfoy

* * *

Day 50 - Part One ~ The Arrival at Hogwarts

Hermione felt herself being woken up by her mother, who shook her awake.

"What is it?" She asked, before her mind flickered back to the events of yesterday. The Queen. The betrothal. Her fathers face lighting up ('an honour for for our family Hermione!'). The carriage that had been ordered to pick her up the next morning. This morning.

Of course her father had accepted the proposal. Why wouldn't he? A marriage between his daughter and the heir to the throne? He'd have to be insane not to accept.

And so the dressmakers daughter was going to the castle to be wed.

"Get up!" Mrs Granger shook her head, and pulled the linens from around Hermione, exposing her nightdress, and causing her to jump up and head towards the box that held her clothes. "We need to pack your things!"

Hermione quickly stripped out of her worn nightdress, before quickly pulling her under clothes on and then her best dress, a dark (practical) velvet thing, with a slim lined skirt, and worn thin under the shoulders.

The pair quickly worked through the room, collecting Hermione's few possessions that were of value.

The chest of clothing was soon topped off with her soap, her comb and her repair kit, needles and thread etc. A pair of scissors with worn handles that had been hers since birth.

"Come here and let me do your hair," Mrs Granger pulled Hermione by her arm to bring her closer to her body, more robust now, certainly bigger than Hermione's, and yet an observer needn't look far to see where Hermione got her figure.

Mrs Granger picked up the comb, and pulled it through Hermione's hair, tugging it through the knots, in a way so familiar, that she couldn't help but remember being in this situation a hundred other times throughout her childhood.

And all of a sudden she heard a gasp, and felt it lift from her own lips, as tears filled her eyes. Was she merely going to head to a marriage she did not want, that she did not know? How was it fair that she was being forced into this, with no warning, no opinion? She felt like she was a toy, now fresh and bright, handed from her creators, the painter and the carpenter, to a spoilt child, who would play with her until she was worn and tired and abused, and would then cast her aside in favour of a brighter, fresher toy.

"Shh," her mother stroked her cheek as she pulled her hair into an elaborate bun that the women of the high court seemed to be favouring now a days. "Shh, it's okay. I'll see you soon. Very soon."

"I shall miss you," Hermione threw her arms around her mother, and hugged her close, allowing Mrs Grangers arms to fit around her shoulders as she hid her face into her shoulders, feeling like a child comforted at night, her mother chasing away the nightmares.

"And I will too," Mrs Granger pressed a kiss to Hermione's chestnut hair, with merged against her own, straighter hair. "It will be okay. We will see each other soon, and Her Grace has promised she will make sure you are taken care of."

"Of course," Hermione pulled herself away from her mothers chest. "The carriage will be here soon," and sure enough they could hear the faint sound of the horses outside, alerting them of the fact that the horses and carriages had indeed arrived.

A man employed by the castle and it's reigning family hurried into Hermione's (ex) room, and upon Mrs Grangers direction, picked up the chest that held all of her life possessions, and hurried out to the carriage, where as Hermione and her mother made their way out, past the boutique, which ought to be opened soon, where a woman garbed in a dark green stood, her hair pulled back firmly, in a way almost exceedingly unfashionable, with a face that showed age.

"Mrs Granger," the woman nodded and turned her gaze to Hermione. "Miss Granger. I am Lady McGonagall and I am here to take Miss Granger to the castle."

"Yes," Mrs Granger smiled half heartedly, and ran a hand over her hair. "Yes, she's here."

"Shall we be going then?" Lady McGonagall raised an eyebrow, which Hermione could observe had been perfectly plucked, much like the rest of the court ladies who occasionally ventured into town.

Mrs Granger ran a hand down Hermione's face and hugged her close. "My beautiful, darling, baby girl," she whispered into her ear. "You shall be a fine wife for the prince. He shall be mad not to love you."

Hermione allowed a smile to arch over her face, and pushed all thoughts of the prince far from her mind, and instead focused on the beautiful castle she would soon be living in, as she waved to a couple of gaping children who were standing in the sun outside the bakery, as the rest of the townsfolk hurried about their business, too busy to care about the carriage or the lady in it, or having decided in their mind that Hermione and her mother must simply be continuing with their dressmaking business.

"Bye," Hermione said, the word falling too simply, too easily from her lips, to show what she truly thought. "Tell father I will miss him and I hope to see him soon," she thought of Mr Granger, who had left to look at a house on the other side of town, to fix the roof or the floor this morning.

"Of course," her mother smiled, "Now hurry on. You can't keep _the Queen_ waiting."

Hermione smiled weakly and allowed the man who had carried bags to help her up into the plain carriage, obviously designed for supposed discretion. Lady McGonagall continued in after her, and seated herself directly opposite her, nestling against the plush red cushioned seats. After the door was closed up, and Hermione realised that the carriage had the faint odour of horses and wine, the carriage started moving, and Hermione waved frantically goodbye to her mother, who had brushed a tear away from her cheek, triggering Hermione's eyes to gather their own. She turned away, and hid then from Lady McGonagall, who was watching her with interest.

"Hermione is it?" Lady McGonagall asked.

"Yes my lady," Hermione turned back to her.

"My lady? Soon you shall be Queen. Calling me _my l_ady is improper. You will be above me in a short time."

Hermione looked up at her. "Yes . . ." she trailed off, unsure what to call her.

"Just Lady McGonagall, not my lady," Lady McGonagall said once more. "You are to be wed in fifty days."

"Yes," Hermione nodded. "I know."

"That isn't long," Lady McGonagall looked her over once more. "But I think that you're smart and you can fight your way through the court."

Hermione felt her gut wrench. Fighting her way? She didn't want to fight. She'd prepared her entire life to take over her mothers position in town. Her nice, comfortable position, where there was no fighting of any sort.

"You will be fine for now," Lady McGonagall nodded. "The Queen has evidently taken her under her protection."

Hermione turned away and settled for ignoring her. She was weary and excited and nervous and happy and sad all at the same time and it was horrible. This was the first time she wished she could go home, although it certainly wouldn't be the last.

* * *

"Welcome Miss Granger," the man from before, who Hermione had decided to call a footman (although she wasn't quite sure if that was the proper use of the term), helped her out of the carriage, as the day began to noon. It was sunny and bright, and in the light of the day, the castle looked quite pleasant, surrounded by gardens with roses and other flowers decorating them. "To Hogwarts."

"Thank you," she smiled, her smile spreading wide.

"Miss Granger," Lady McGonagall led the way to the castles entrance, where a butler stood waiting, and bowed as the pair neared, the former picking up her notably heavier skirts, as they made a rustling sound, reminiscent of the sound of wind blowing through the dry leaves of autumns trees.

They walked through the castles hall, where a couple of maids stood cleaning, and small groups of noblemen and women stood, talking. Immediately their eyes seemed to catch over Hermione, taking in her clothes and styled hair, and her lack of make up. She was quite certain that she heard one whisper to another "Is that a new maid?" only for the other to reply that she was the cheap downtown bride of the prince. Hermione's cheeks flushed and she followed Lady McGonagall quickly down the hall, as she alighted a flight of stairs, only to continue on, until the reached a portrait with a door next to it, and two guards at the door.

"My Lady," the guards bowed, and moved back, their leather feet moving quickly against the stone floor, as Hermione took in with large eyes the swords that swung at their belt, pointy and sharp and decidedly dangerous.

Lady McGonagall nodded and led Hermione into a large room, which was well lit by the large windows, whose elaborate and heavy curtains had been pulled back. There was a fire going in the fireplace, despite it not being too cold, and comfortable armchairs and bookshelves spread throughout the room, as well as a few young gentlemen and ladies, talking and chatting in the room, talking amoungst themselves and reading books, or poetry, or a couple of ladies embroidering pieces of fabric in bright colours.

Their eyes once again flitted over to her, and Hermione ducked her head, as the young women, each dressed brighter and more flamboyantly than the last, muttered and whispered to one another.

Blushing, Hermione followed Lady McGonagall up a staircase, which led to a set of doors, where a few guards stood watch.

"The majority of the courts ladies who are unwed stay in these rooms," Lady McGonagall pointed out. "However you have been given a suite to yourself until you are wed, as the future Queen."

"Yes," Hermione said, at loss of what else to say, before Lady McGonagall pushed the door open, and Hermione was led into a room more decadent than she could of imagined. There was a four poster bed in a bright red, with a large silk pillows resting on it as well as a faint pink printed quilt, a large wardrobe, hand carved, a wooden desk with writing equipment on it, a bookshelf with a collection of tomes in it and a wash basin and a mirror.

"Now, you will be expected at dinner, so I will arrange for a maid to be sent up with a lunch tray, and another will help you dress for dinner, before I return to take you to dinner," and with that Lady McGonagall left the room.

* * *

_Hello again! Quick update eh? Anyway I really hope some more people will review and tell me what they think (hint, hint) and then maybe I will see whether or not this is actually worth continuing? IDK if anyone is really interested. But how did you like my portrayal of Hermione? McGonagall? Hopefully we shall see some Draco in the next chapter or two (definitely on the list) and Queen Narcissa will make an appearance, along with some of our favourites, including the Weasley's, our favourite Potter and the ever charming Blaise Zabini. Please do however tell me what you think and also thanks to those who did previously review! Much love all the way from Australia, Louisa xx_


	3. Part 2

Title: The Prince and the Pauper

Author: louisaeve

Rating: T

Summary: Hermione is nothing but the local dressmakers daughter, but when the Queen regent sweeps into her mother store, she finds herself suddenly and abruptly engaged to the heir to Avalie, the heir prince, Draco Malfoy.

Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Blaise Zabini, Lavender Brown, Ginny Weasley, Narcissa Malfoy

* * *

Day 50 - Part Two ~ Dressing for the Queen

After Lady McGonagall had left, a young girl quickly made her way up to Hermione's rooms, carrying a tray laden with a soup and a heavy and pale bed, as well as a bowl filled with fruit.

Hermione quickly dug in, as the maid amused herself by fluffing up the silken pillows on her bed, and dusting her desk free of it's non existent dust, as Hermione took the silver lid off the matching silver bowl of soup.

To her delight, as she placed her spoon into the soup and raised it to her mouth, the golden flavours quickly filled her mouth and she swallowed it quickly, before taking another spoonful. She continued in this manner, frantically eating the liquid pumpkin, before she observed the maids shocked gaze upon her and resumed eating at a normal pace, as she had intended when she started.

Dipping a piece of the bread into the soup, Hermione realised that this piece was toasted, as were a few other pieces of bread, whilst the rest were fresh. The maid had opened the wardrobe which Hermione had looked at earlier, and she realised that it was filled with a mix of pretty and coloured dresses, elaborate and plain alike.

"What are they for?" She asked before she could help herself.

"To wear, of course," the maid looked at her, the surprise washing over her place. "A future Queen must dress fitting of her position."

Hermione flushed and looked away. "Yes. Of course."

It was rather humiliating, Hermione thought to herself, as she picked at the bowl of raspberries. The thought that her family couldn't clothe her, couldn't take care of her.

Nonetheless, she was to be a Queen, and Queen's were a reflection of their country, and if she looked well and fine, then her country would look well and fine.

"Why don't you take a wash?" The maid asked, pulling a dress out of the closet and laying it on the bed. "I can run you a bath."

"Okay," Hermione nodded, unsure as to what she was meant to do.

The maid silently helped her over, leading her through to a door, behind which contained a bath tub that the maid had filled with hot water, more of which was heating over a fire in a pot, which the maid scented with a bottle of a pink liquid.

Hermione was rather shocked when the maid began to unbutton the dress at the back, and pulled the shoulders of the dress over her shoulders. "What are you doing?" She gasped.

"Undressing you!" The maid laughed, and continued to pull the dress down, unlacing it at the waist.

"I can do that myself," Hermione insisted, pulling the dress up to cover the thin chemise she was wearing underneath.

"A Queen does not bother herself with mortal things like undressing," the maid clucked, bending down so that she would have better access to the lacing of the bodice of Hermione's dress.

Blushing Hermione allowed the maid to quickly pull the dress from her body, and then pulled her only pair of shoes off, casting the dark items to the side, in a box that Hermione assumed was for dirtied clothes. The chemise was soon pulled off, and Hermione blushed, although the maid did not concern herself with looking at her breasts, or any other areas of her body, and instead began unpinning her hair from the braids and curls it had been pulled into, and picking up a comb from the table which was perched nearby, and pulled it through Hermione's hair. The feat was quite possible, considering the fact that that the maid, although she looked to be younger than Hermione, was quite able to tower over Hermione and her admittedly small stature, pulling the teeth of the comb through Hermione's rather thick curls. The maid clucked as she struggled to comb through a clump of her hair, and then shook her head. "Sit in the bath, and I shall be back soon," she promised, and Hermione sunk into the bathtub, allowing the warm water to ease her muscles, worn from travel.

Flushing in slight humiliation at her hair being such a problem, Hermione heard the doors clanging soon, and the maid hurried through the doors, a jar in her hand. "What's that?" She asked, as the maid poured some into her hand.

"Hair lotion. To smooth the hair," the maid said, pouring some warm water onto her hair, before pouring the scented liquid into her hair, and massaging it through quickly, and in small circles.

"What's your name?" Hermione asked, deciding that it would be best to stop calling her 'the maid'.

"Hannah, my lady," the girl rubbed the scent through Hermione's thick hair and Hermione found that the sensation was rather enjoyable.

"Hermione," she said. "Really, just call me Hermione."

"It's not proper," Hannah washed the soap from her hair, with a warmed pot of water.

"You are the only one who has treated me decently since I have arrived. Please," Hermione insisted, as Hannah gathered her hair into a towel, and wrapped it up.

"Very well," Hannah let out a sigh and Hermione let the first smile in the whole day cross her face.

The towel was pinned in place, and Hannah helped Hermione out of the bath, before rubbing her down with another towel, ensuring she was dry, before wrapping it around her and leading her into her rooms, and closing the door, and barring it so she could change in peace.

Hannah helped Hermione into a set of underclothes, in a pastel colour, one of which supported her breasts, and the other a short skirt which was pulled up around her waist, before Hannah brought over a heavy gown in deep purple silk, with golden, swirling brocade, which was heavy enough that Hannah could barely lift it. It was a beautiful dress, and it was not made in Avelie, though due to the cut and the style of the fabric, Hermione assumed it may of been made in Ollinda, and couldn't help but run her eyes over the stitching, and observed that it was not superior to her mothers.

Once she was helped into the dress, which hung heavily on her small frame, Hannah unravelled her hair from the towel, and started squeezing her hair once more and allowed the towel to soak up the water from her hair.

Hermione's hair was deemed dry enough by Hannah and she soon began combing the thick locks out, allowing them to fall, before Hannah began to pin up her hair in elaborate twists and braids at the crown of her head.

"Shoes," Hannah slipped a pair of shoes onto Hermione's feet that elevated the back of her foot, before standing up and pinning a stray strand away from her face. "There you go. Beautiful."

Hermione smiled half heartedly, as a sharp rap sounded on the door. "The Lady McGonagall is here to escort Miss Granger."

Hannah grinned widely at Hermione, and called back. "She's ready."

"Acceptable," Lady McGonagall sniffed, sweeping into Hermione's rooms, her skirts having been changed into something more acceptable for night time, a dark green colour which Hermione recognised from her mother sewing last year. "Shall we?" She raised an eyebrow at Hermione, before sweeping out with little delay for Hermione to answer.

"You look great," Hannah smiled brightly, and Hermione, feeling reassured, followed Lady McGonagall into the room which Hermione had seen ladies and gentlemen before, talking and amusing themselves. However tonight they were all absent, apart from one girl, who had amused herself by reading a book as a maid dusted a bookshelf nearby.

They swept quickly through the halls, and although Lady McGonagall seemed not to be phased at all by the pace of which they were traveling, Hermione's face was soon slightly flushed and she could feel her breathing accelerating.

They reached the entry hall they had arrived at earlier that day, and hermione observed many of the ladies and gentlemen of the court entering, all talking and fluttering fans and resting their hands casually on one another's arms.

Lady McGonagall swept past a group of ladies, all dressed in a different shad of pink, who quickly turned their heads towards Hermione, as she walked after Lady McGonagall. Fixing her gaze on the ground, Hermione attempted to avoid looking at anyone else, or hear the whispers from the ladies who had undoubtedly recognised her, and were observing her and her manners and what she was doing. All judging her.

Instead Hermione fixed her mind on her surroundings. The hall was brightly lit by a incredibly amount of candles, and four long tables lined the hall, as well as one horizontally along the width of the hall at the top, which looked rather bare. A few Lords and Ladies were seated there, as well as the Queen Narcissa, who was talking to a woman who had brightly painted cheeks and a dress in bright green, which sounded alright, but did not look well.

Lady McGonagall continued to walk, before moving behind the table, and seating herself to the left of Queen Narcissa. "Hermione, dear," Queen Narcissa's mouth curved into a smile, a wicked smile, and patted the seta next to her gently. "Do sit."

Hermione obliged and carefully seated herself, being immediately enveloped by the plush red velvet of the seats cushioning. "My lady," she bowed her head, due to her position being unable to move into a curtsey.

"I am pleased you made your way to the castle successfully," the Queen waved a server over, and gestured at Hermione's glass. "You are well?"

"Yes, very," Hermione nodded. "The castle is wonderful."

"As it should be," she smiled, her pale lips curling up in an attractive way. "It has been in my late husbands family for over three hundred years, and has been maintained to a perfect level since being built."

"It is impeccable," Hermione nodded, attempting to ignore the fact that her goblet was now filled with a deep red wine.

"Well, drink up," Queen Narcissa gestured at the glass, as a server brought over a plate of an unidentified fowl with limes around its body, and served some for Hermione upon the Queens insistence. "It is the finest. I had our cooks bring it from the cellars as a celebration for your arrival."

"Thank you," Hermione blushed, and picked her goblet up, sipping from it daintily.

"You look very nice," the Queen took in her dress. "I shall have to have some more dresses made for you in purple. I was unsure if you would look well in them, considering your darker features, but you look quite majestic."

"Thank you," Hermione said once more, unsure as to what she was meant to say. "You look nice too."

"This one was a gift from my son," the blonde laughed, and placed a morsel of chicken in her mouth, and Hermione mimicked the action, trying not to moan at the fact the meat practically melted upon touching her tongue. "My last birthday."

"He has good taste," Hermione said, deciding that compliments were the best method to dealing with Her Majesty.

"Mmm, yes I suppose," she surveyed her pale blue gown, with pearls beading the neckline. "How is the food? Acceptable?"

"Yes, it's wonderful!" Hermione replied, being perfectly honest.

"Wonderful?" Queen Narcissa scoffed. "It's adequate."

"I suppose," Hermione returned her gaze to her plate, trying to ignore the flush rising up the back of her neck.

"I am sorry my son is not here," Narcissa said, taking another bite of her meal, as Hermione continued and tasted her own, savouring the flavours. "He is busy with a friend of his, who recently arrived from a trip he has been taking, touring various kingdoms."

"That sounds incredible," Hermione said genuinely, her eyes going wide. "He must of learnt so much!"

"Depends on what you think learning is," the Queen said dryly, gulping down the rest of her goblet, and ushering the server over to pour her some more wine. "You will meet him soon I assume. He will play a part in the wedding I assume, as he and Draco have always been close friends."

"Yes, I am sure we will talk a fair bit," Hermione nodded.

"More wine?" The Queen raised an eyebrow at her, and Hermione nodded, allowing the thick liquor to chase away the whispers that she heard echoing throughout the hall, about the common bride, and the dark connotations that came with her name.

* * *

_So what do you think? Narcissa's claws are starting to come out and dare I be hasty enough to say maybe one of our favourites will soon arrive and be introduced to Hermione? Anyway, I'm on holiday so internet connection is lacking, but I promise to work quickly, and maybe give you another update soon? Much love and please review! Thanks to those who already have, xx Louisa_


	4. Day 49

Title: The Prince and the Pauper

Author: louisaeve

Rating: T

Summary: Hermione is nothing but the local dressmakers daughter, but when the Queen regent sweeps into her mother store, she finds herself suddenly and abruptly engaged to the heir to Avalie, the heir prince, Draco Malfoy.

Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Blaise Zabini, Lavender Brown, Ginny Weasley, Narcissa Malfoy

* * *

Day 49 - Flowers and Pearls for the Lady

When Hermione woke up she found herself in a bed that was not her own, wrapped in silk sheets laden with fur blankets that were not her own, as her head rested on a pillow that was silken and scented with cinnamon that was not her own. Instead when she woke, she found herself laying in a bed laden with pillows that felt luxurious, with Hannah looking through her wardrobe.

"Good morning," Hermione said in a slightly hoarse voice as she realised where she was.

"Good morning," Hannah smiled brightly. "Breakfast?" She gestured towards a silver tray, with plates of food resting on it.

"Please," Hermione smiled brightly, and pulled herself out of bed, becoming aware of the silken nightgown that had been provided for her by the Queen. She grabbed the tray, and seated herself at a seat which had been placed in the corner of her room, and balanced the tray on her lap.

"You should of stayed in bed!" Hannah lightly scolded. "I would of brought it to you!"

"It doesn't really matter does it?" Hermione smiled, teasing her. "Do you want some?"

Hannah looked at her seriously. "No! A future Queen does not share her breakfast with _maids_!"

"Very well," Hermione said stiffly, although she could feel the sides of her mouth twitching and knew that Hannah would be able to as well.

"Now today you are to join the Queen and her ladies in some embroidery and some readings in her chambers, before you dine with the Queen and some visiting ladies from Ollinda," Hannah instructed, and pulled a few dresses out of the wardrobe.

"Do you like the pale pink for today?" Hannah lifted up a dress printed with small pink flowers on a white, stiff fabric, with careful detailing in small white beads.

"Very pretty," Hermione smiled.

Hannah continued to dust down some of Hermione's books and the windowsills, as Hermione savoured the taste of the omelette she had been made, heavy with cheese and accompanied by tomato and a fresh squeezed oranges.

Once Hermione had finished her breakfast, Hannah rushed over to help her dress, helping her into a set of underclothes and then her pretty daydress, and then piled her hair up into the knits and braids which she had worn last night. "The Queen sent something over for you to wear today," Hannah smiled, and rushed over to Hermione's desk, where a wooden box sat. Hannah opened it and drew out a strand of pretty pearls and a matching bracelet, which she hung over Hermione's body in the appropriate places, as Hermione gasped in wonder.

"They are quite beautiful," she said, marveling at their smoothness and how they sat against her relatively tanned skin.

"The Queen has excellent taste," Hannah said dryly, and looked Hermione over once more, checking to make sure she looked presentable. "You still look too much like a towns girl for the Queens liking, and tomorrow she has ordered a group to come to clean and buff your nails, and dress your hair properly. These jewels she is hoping will cover your birthplace up. They shall be the first of many jewels, just you wait."

Hermione nodded, and knew that while the Queen appeared to be kind and giving, she was trying to regain some hope for her son, and using a pretty towns girl would do so well.

"You look fine," Hannah pulled at Hermione's skirt, attempting to get it to sit well, before brushing off her shoulders, freeing them of some imaginary dust. "Now are you ready to go?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded. "Is Lady McGonagall coming to escort me?"

"No, I have been saddled with that duty today," Hannah smiled, and unbarred the door, as Hermione followed Hannah out into the room (which Hermione had learnt yesterday was merely called the Common Room), and out of it, as a few of the guests of the room looked on in curiosity.

Hermione hurried after Hannah (goodness did everyone in this castle move quickly?), and followed her down a sunlight corridor, drenched by the windows golden rays, which looked out onto large and fancy gardens.

They made the way along the corridor, until they arrived at a set of doors which were elaborately carved and painted with golden lilies and bright purple orchids, and four guards outside. "Miss Granger to see Her Grace," Hannah spoke up for the pair, and the guards opened the doors for her, gaining her entrance to the rooms.

Hermione found her eyes widening at the display which was taking place in the Queens rooms, decorated in pale blues and bright silvers, with around twenty or so ladies sitting around on lounges and amusing themselves by embroidering or a few reading if they were so inclined, as the Queen sat at her desk writing. "I am glad you made in Miss Granger," she calls from her seat, blotting her paper.

"Thank you Your Grace," Hermione says, unsure how else she should reply.

Hannah leads her to a seat next to a red haired girl, as a couple of whispers enter the room and eyes catch over Hermione. The girl with red hair smiles at her, and Hermione finds her face is sprinkled with freckles, splattered all across her nose. "Ginny Potter," she smiles brightly and pats the seat next to her. "Hermione Granger right?"

"Yes," Hermione says, and any other time of her life she would of whirled into a conversation but she is awkward and shy now and she can feel eyes watching her, waiting for to show herself as a failure.

"I love your dress," Ginny says conversationally as she sews another stitch on her embroidery, and Hannah hands Hermione an embroidery kit, complete with an array of brightly coloured threads.

"Well it was a gift from Her Grace," Hermione shrugged, and selected a purple thread, a little unsure as to what was meant to do when they embroidered. Gazing around she realises that the majority of the women in the room were sewing flowers, some with pictures close to reference. Even Ginny was sewing one, although it looked more like a mess of orange and yellow stitches.

"It's very pretty," Ginny let out a huff and unpicked a row of orange stitches, as Hermione picked up her needle and started the shape of a purple petunia. "How long have you been in the castle?"

"Just today and yesterday," Hermione said as she quickly sewed the basic shape of the petunia. "Are you one of the ladies in waiting?"

"Nope," Ginny bit down on her lip in concentration and brought the stiff white fabric of her embroidery kit close to her eyes. "My husband was asked to come to talk to the Prince's grandfather for a bit, so Her Majesty invited me to stay for a while. She thought that maybe I would be able to connect with you. Or something like that."

"But how did she know that I would be here?" Hermione asked, her eyebrows furrowing. "We just met two days ago."

"The Queen has been planning this for a while," Ginny said lowly, and then threw her embroidery down in annoyance, leaving in full display a mix of yellow and orange stitches which really didn't look like nor create the form of a flower. "She always has a plan."

"I see," Hermione said, for there really wasn't anything else to say.

"Your sewing is incredible!" Ginny exclaimed loudly all of a sudden. "Luna, come look at this!"

A blonde girl floated over, and examined Hermione's work in a way that she didn't quite like. "It's very pretty. But not much imagination. Why not a green petunia?"

"A green petunia?" Hermione scoffed suddenly. "Whoever heard of such a thing?"

"Well that's the point isn't it?" The girl, Luna smiled, before walking over to her seat and planting herself down.

Nonetheless, Ginny's exclamation soon attracted other attention, for a dark girl (who was most certainly not from around these parts) walked over, and examined the work. "This is very pretty!" She smiled brilliantly, her white teeth flashing against her dark skin. "You simply must make me something sometime. Your stitches are so precise!"

"Thank you!" Hermione beamed in response, before the girl walked away to her friend - a Miss Brown, whom Hermione had met a while ago, under very different circumstances, as her mother had been making her a dress, which she now wore, covered in lace and bows and in a bright purple that made Hermione nearly wince at the colour.

"Well I bet she had to learn how to sew," Miss Brown was now saying to her friend in a fake whisper. "The commoners are so harsh on their daughters - and then they practically _sell_ them into marriage, all for a loaf of bread!"

Hermione gritted her teeth, and instead turned to adding a white accent to her petunia. "Ignore them," Ginny advised, having picked up a book and attempted to translate it into Avelién from the language of Ollinda, and was now frowning at the mess of words in front of her. "Miss Brown is a notorious gossip and enjoys sparking fights in the court. And Parvati fears her position in court is too precarious to go against anyone, especially considering they live in very close quarters. Miss Brown is just jealous."

"Jealous?" Hermione's eyes went wide. "Of what?"

"Of you!" Ginny laughed and appeared to have abandoned her attempts of translation. "Why wouldn't she be? You are young and lively and beautiful and most importantly, you are marrying the Prince. Miss Brown had hoped to marry him, or at least someone with a title. She is only a miss, and her parents sent her here to find a husband with a title to wed, but so far she has yet to."

"That is very unfortunate," Hermione frowned.

"Yes, especially considering this is her third year here," Ginny leaned in to gossip. "She has had a couple of interested men - my brother even appeared to be for a while - but she hasn't managed to get a proposal out of any as of yet."

"Lunch!" The Queen called out as a group of maids walked in, carrying trays piled with food and drinks and thus interrupting the girls conversation.

_

Hermione spent the rest of the day with the ladies in the Queens chambers, after dining and after she had finished her fifth petunia, Queen Narcissa read them an entry in Ollindian, not a word of which Hermione understood, but still appeared to look as interested as possible, although she saw Miss Brown scrawling notes to her friend, whom Ginny had acknowledged as Parvati.

Then the Queen had dismissed them all from her chambers, and ordered the maids to clean up, as the young ladies picked up their embroidery and books, but Hermione was told to stay and wait for her to fix her hair.

The Queen walked out of her bathroom not much later, with her hair looking exactly the same as it had before, and looked her over. "I thought the pearls would look good on you. I was right," she smiled, pleased with herself and led the way down the corridor.

The Queen did not move as quickly as Lady McGonagall had, but she still kept up a brisk pace as she swept down the hall, and Hermione found herself slightly out of breath by the time she arrived at the room which they would be dining.

It was a quite spacious and lovely room, which during the day would of been lit by windows which were of half of the walls, as this was a room in one of the castles' towers, but now the windows had thick curtains in deep green drawn over them, and instead many candles had been lit to brighten the room.

The women they dined with were very snobby and spoke in thick accents which Hermione found hard to understand. They seemed to look down on her, whether because they knew she was a commoner, or they simply did not like her, Hermione did not know. Instead they and Narcissa conversed in Avelién and in their native tongue, about topics which held no interest to Hermione - about scandals with foreign princes and maids and dukes who had forgotten their positions and allowed themselves to share a bed with a young daughter of a visiting Lord. So Hermione found herself bored and picked and her delicious and fancy food, while looking at her bracelet and the small beads on her dress. Finally once the visiting ladies had announced themselves "absolutely exhausted - ve must retire!', Hermione was granted leave.

The Queen enquired if she would need an escort, but Hermione shook her head and exited the room, rather exhausted over her day in court. She could use a walk (at a decent pace) and if she got lost she could always ask one of the many guards of the castle to direct her.

So she walked out of the room, and headed down the passage where she had walked earlier with Narcissa.

Although it was spring, and the winter ought to have been chased away by now, she still extended her hand that night, held onto the world by her fingertips and blew her icy breath, causing the world to chill and Hermione's skin to be raised with goosebumps. With a slight shiver she continued down the hallway in the way she remembered, the moonlight joining with the candle light, lighting her way in a mosaic of silver and gold.

To her surprise as she passed Queen Narcissa's chambers, she heard uneven steps - not the steps of the guard, rather the steps that she knew well from Friday nights, the lopsided, teetering steps of a drunk.

As she quickly hurried, the drunk stopped in front of her. He was young. Not much older than herself, with pale blonde hair and eyes with deep shadows below them, and grey eyes that Hermione found her eyes catching over, for the silver of them were the only bit of colour, only piece of darkness on his otherwise fair face. Sighing as his eyes locked onto hers, she realised that she was caught and it would be improper not to talk to him.

"Sir, are you lost?" She asked. "Do you need me to call a guard to help direct you back to your rooms? This is the royal corridor, no place for those who are not invited."

"Well you are a pretty thing aren't you?" He leered at her, and Hermione felt her senses assaulted by the stench of cheap beer. "Haven't seen you around."

"I don't suppose you would of," she flinched back, and attempted to step away, only to find that the drunkard had captured her hand and placed a mocking kiss on it, soaking it in the scent of sweat and beer and all other sorts of pub smells. "Please, or I shall call the guards," she frowned, and pulled it back, flinching in disgust.

"Fair well then my lady," he made a bow in her direction as he released her hand, accompanying the gesture with a laugh, and Hermione picked up her skirts and hastened down the hall, as the drunkard stumbled down to a door, where the guards opened the heavy wood and allowed him into his chambers.

* * *

_So where I am is absolutely freezing - I think my toes are close to falling off, and it's not even winter yet! But that's how it gets when you go south! SO what do you think? Like? Dislike? Hate? Thanks to everyone who reviewed/ faved/ followed. I love you. And thanks if you, you know talked. Maybe you'd like to check out my new fic 'Of Negros and White Boys' - you might like it, it's a 60s AU. Much love, Louisa xx_


	5. day 48

Title: The Prince and the Pauper

Author: louisaeve

Rating: T

Summary: Hermione is nothing but the local dressmakers daughter, but when the Queen regent sweeps into her mother store, she finds herself suddenly and abruptly engaged to the heir to Avalie, the heir prince, Draco Malfoy.

Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Blaise Zabini, Lavender Brown, Ginny Weasley, Narcissa Malfoy, Daphne Greengrass

* * *

Day 48 - Tea and the Company It Brings

After Hermione had been rinsed thoroughly and had exclaimed to Hannah how shocking she thought it that a man should conduct himself in such a way, she had gone to bed and was now was awoken by the sun shining brightly into her face. Hannah was cleaning again, although today there was no breakfast.

"Good morning," Hannah smiled brightly. "How about this?" She held up another dress, this one in a light green, and Hermione nodded, not really knowing the difference between all the dresses.

"The Queen has arranged a tea with your betrothed and some of his close friends," Hannah chattered brightly as she dressed Hermione, looking her over. Today Hermione's hair hung over her shoulders in a way which was not often seen in the court, and was dressed with tiny pins that sparkled at the end, with small bits of jewels. "Your first meeting with your fiancée yes?" She raised an eyebrow and continued patting Hermione over, inspecting her dress and appearance.

"Yes," Hermione nodded.

"Well, you look good. He shall be charmed," Hannah smiled, and motioned for her to step into the shoes that she had laid our earlier, as she pulled Hermione's thick chamber doors open and walked out, at the brisk pace she had walked earlier. Hermione walked quickly after her, tempted to run, but as they entered the Common Room she was all too aware of the eyes on her and instead followed Hannah out of the common room and down one of the many corridors the castle seemed to have. Ginny had told her yesterday that there was _seven_ levels, not including the dungeons.

To her surprise Hannah led her through the hall which she had originally entered through and out into the garden of the castle, towards a pavilion. She could already see a few ladies and gentlemen seated there, and was following Hannah in that direction, when she heard the shouts. "Hermione! Hermione!" She turned around at the sound of her name and saw that her new ginger friend was racing after her. "Well, you can certainly move can't you?" Ginny grinned, and Hermione observed that she had run towards Hannah and herself, a most unladylike action. "Hello Hannah," she greeted the blonde maid.

"Duchess Potter," Hannah swept into a curtsey.

"Anyway, so I was dragged away from a breakfast with my husband to joining you in the meeting of your betrothed," Ginny grinned once more, as Hermione smiled back.

"I am sorry," Hermione said.

"Don't be," Ginny waved her off. "Things have been getting a bit boring around here. A betrothal always makes life more exciting. Especially a royal betrothal."

"Really?" Hermione found herself worrying.

"Don't mind it," Ginny laughed, and looped her arm in Hermione's own, before heading towards the pavilion where the pair were expected. "You shall be fine. You are precisely what any man would want in his wife. Most men shall be jealous of the Prince."

Hermione nodded, taking in the pavilion, where a set of maids stood with trays waiting to serve.

They entered the pavilion, and Hermione found all eyes to be on her. A dark haired boy looked up from under his hair (rather overgrown and improper she thought to herself), a girl with dark hair and two blondes. "Good morning," she said as brightly as possible, and the dark haired girl narrowed her eyes.

"Miss Granger?" One of the blonde girls asked. "Take a seat," she smiled, not exactly warmly, but her eyes didn't tell Hermione to get out before she was fed poison, like one of her companions, so Hermione took a seat where she gestured. "Lady Weasley?" The blonde gestured at the seat next to Hermione.

"It's Duchess Potter now actually," Ginny shrugged and seated herself next to her brunette companion, and the blonde who had spoken smiled.

"Yes you were married this winter, am I correct?" The blonde smiled again, and uncovered a tray, in which rested a set of pretty cakes, decorated brightly.

"You are indeed Miss Davis," Ginny smiled, and took a cake, before popping it into her mouth whole, not bothering to use a fork, much to the shock of not only Hermione but the maids present.

"It's Tracy," the blonde scolded.

"Well then it's Ginny," Ginny smiled back, after swallowing a mouthful.

"Miss Granger, I am Lady Parkinson," the dark haired girl said sullenly, looking at her as if to try to figure her out.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Hermione said, smiling although she very well didn't want to, especially not this girl, who was glaring at her like she had killed her father, as her stomach scrambled in a bunch of nerves.

"Likewise," Lady Parkinson said, clearly not meaning a word of what she said.

"Lady Daphne and this is Lord Theodore," the other blonde said, and motioned for one of the maids to serve Hermione and Ginny some tea, as the boy, the man, Lord Theodore looked up at them from under his lashes.

"Good morning," Hermione smiled once more, and took a sip of her tea.

Lady Daphne was beautiful, although rather tall for a women. Her facial features were small, excusing her eyes which were large and wide, in a dark blue. Tracy who sat next to her, was also blonde, and the two looked quite similar except, her eyes were a green and she a fair bit shorter than her companion. They looked the picture of typical Avelién nobility, sitting next to each other, and Hermione guessed that Lady Parkinson and Lord Theodore's family's weren't originally nobility, or they had had a fair bit of marriage with the nobility of other kingdoms.

"Miss Granger I apologise, but Draco seems to be running late," Lord Theodore said, his voice coming out smooth in a way that young mens often were not, in a voice that was not entirely high, but not exactly deep either.

"I don't mind," Hermione said in reply, happy that her meeting with her fiancée was delayed, as she was unsure whether she should be excited or not over the prospect of seeing her betrothed.

"Humble this one," Lady Daphne took a mouthful of tea in, sipping daintily from her cup.

Hermione flushed and turned her head down to the table, and Ginny started a conversation with Tracy about gowns and proper shoes to go with blue dresses.

"So sorry we're late," a drawl came from the entrance of the pavilion, and a dark man appeared in startling white pants and a crimson shirt. "His Grace was delayed getting ready."

And the man seated himself next to Ginny, and behind him walked a tall pale man, who was dressed in royal gold. He was handsome, certainly, but also familiar to Hermione's eyes. He was the drunk from the night before.

"Miss Granger, may I present to you your betrothed, Prince Draco," Lady Daphne smiled.

Hermione's eyes went wide in shock and she struggled to keep her hands in her lap and not allow them to fly to her mouth in shock. The Prince? A drunk?

Certainly she had heard rumours that the Prince was not the most honorable man, and had visited his fair share of whore houses and pubs in his time, but this was rather confronting! She was to be married to a man who drunk? It did not matter if he was a prince, the notion was inexcusable!

Aware of the eyes on her however, Hermione averted her eyes and gave a slight nod of her head in Draco's direction. "My prince it is a pleasure to meet you," her tone gave no curtaining to the fact that she considered it disgusting and would rather he dropped off the face of the Earth.

"Likewise," the Prince drawled, seating himself next to his friend. "Blaise, pass the sugar would you?" He inquired of his friend. "How's Potter going these days?" He turned to Ginny, completely disregarding social decencies and simply referring to her husband by his last name.

"The Duke Potter fairs well," Ginny smiled with a grimace. Apparently she had never considered employment as an actor. "And you my Grace?"

"Well my good lady," Draco apparently decided that eating simply with his hands was preferable, as Lady Daphne looked on in barely concealed disapproval.

"Draco, how about you inform Miss Granger of your friends occupation?" She raised an eyebrow in warning.

"Of course," he gave a sarcastic smile to which fooled none of his supposed joy. "Hermione - may I call you Hermione?" And he continued without waiting for her approval. "This is my dearest friend Blaise. He likes horse riding and sticking his sword into mens guts. What of you?"

None of the company looked very pleased with that statement, excluding perhaps the Lady Parkinson, but Hermione continued, plastering a smile on her face. She was smart. She'd always been smart. She was not a fool and she knew that she could not react in retaliation to her betrothed actions. "Your good friend is talented I am sure. Perhaps he would demonstrate his skills for us someday. I enjoy the study of language and also of minerals."

"Ah an alchemist?" Lady Daphne raised an eyebrow and motioned for one of the maids to add rose petals to her tea. "I myself was intrigued by the study, but I found it rather tedious."

"Alchemy is very difficult," Hermione diverted her attention to the Lady Daphne, distracting herself from her disappointment of a betrothed who had now rested his head on the table and was demanding he be brought the juice of oranges immediately. "However I find the study is very rewarding."

"You shall have to demonstrate some for me someday. I am very interested," Lady Daphne responded as Draco let out a groan, causing Hermione's nostrils to flare in annoyance.

The company soon decided to leave tea and return to their own chambers, with Ginny declaring to Hermione that she had to meet with her brother and her husband, and Lady Daphne insisting on Hermione joining her as she walked around the gardens of the palace, while Draco informing Blaise that he was glad that the 'dreaded thing was over and now he could get some sleep'.

The two young girls made their way down to the Queen's rose and daffodil gardens, a brilliant mix of white and yellow for the royal family, with Lady Daphne bending her head to look at her feet as she seemed to be thinking over her next words. "Miss Granger," she stated.

"Please, Hermione will do," Hermione smiled at the girl, who appeared to be intelligent.

"Hermione then," Lady Daphne gave a smile. "Forgive my forwardness but I wish to . . . help you with your new . . . life. Lady Parkinson had once been all but in a betrothal with His Grace, you must understand."

"Oh," Hermione frowned, trying to figure out the pairs relationship.

"They were to be wed, however the Master Dumbledore informed the good Queen that marriage to a young woman who the people felt they could relate to would . . . elevate the Prince, and the monarchy's, standing with the people, allowing for better relations," Lady Daphne raised a meaningful eyebrow at Hermione.

"And a common girl who many grew up with is the best possible choice," Hermione nodded. She had concluded as much herself. "Finding a girl who knew how to speak properly and dress and conduct herself in society was the real issue."

"You have been given a very coveted position here," Lady Daphne lowered her voice, and moved Hermione over to a particularly bright and large rose, allowing them to come closer together and speak without being overheard. "One must expect that you would want to retain it. And one would understand that his Grace is not currently at his strongest. He would need someone to . . . help him. Guide him. Allow him to become a king."

"You don't mean his mother by any chance?" Hermione gave a small smile at her jest.

"I was thinking someone a bit younger."

* * *

_Ahh so sorry! It's been nearly a month since I've updated. Recently hit inspiration due to the lovely Hanako A's fic Ambition's End, in which Hermione is the perfect snake in the midst of lions. It's really beautiful, and DH compliant until the epilogue. Anyway Daphne is fast becoming a fave and I have decided she shall be reoccurring because she seems to be pretty cool so far! I got asked for a song rec, so for this chapter I listened to like California by Phantom Planet and also Game of Thrones dialogue? Who else likes GoT? Any Sansa fans? Because to me Hermione seemed a bit too Sansa like this chapter, and she will definitely break out of that. Thoughts on Pansy? Gin? Theo? Daphne? Tracy? Hannah? Most importantly Draco? Anyway here's your official intro to Draco and a bit of a grand scheme foreshadowing , but seriously, as always let me know what you think and I will reply to everything if I can, mark my words this time. Xx Louisa_


	6. Chapter 6: Day 47

Title: The Prince and the Pauper

Author: louisaeve

Rating: T

Summary: Hermione is nothing but the local dressmakers daughter, but when the Queen regent sweeps into her mother store, she finds herself suddenly and abruptly engaged to the heir to Avalie, the heir prince, Draco Malfoy.

Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Blaise Zabini, Lavender Brown, Ginny Weasley, Narcissa Malfoy, Daphne Greengrass

* * *

Day 47 - An Unusual Measure

Hermione found herself sitting with the Lady Daphne in her suite the next day.

Hannah had dressed her in a purple gown, a dusky colour which was the colour of the sunset, which the Queen Regent had specially ordered according to Hannah, It was a pretty thing, covered in a velvet print of white, which the Lady Daphne had automatically complimented her on, saying that the colour was pleasing in contrast to her natural colouring.

The two had sat down for tea and dined on cakes that Hermione barely knew existed before this moment. It isn't the fact that she'd never eaten good food - she had of course, been well fed as a child, her mother gaining quite a large income for her family alone, and her father earned more of that on top, so the family had done quite well, especially in comparison to other town folk. Nonetheless, cakes were generally made by her mother, or a relative or friend, and never just _brought_ by any means. She'd seen cakes of the sort in the bakery of course, but she'd never dined on them herself.

The cakes melted on her tongue, butter and sugar and vanilla and cinnamon. They were a mixture of pleasant tastes, sweet and creamy, and she felt like devouring them all at once.

Of course that didn't happen and she let Lady Daphne eat at least a fair share, although Hermione felt like she consumed much more than her own share. "They're from Ollinda," Daphne smiled, and slid another on a small china plate over. "Apparently the princess is quite fond of them."

"I can see why," Hermione replied with a smile, and felt overall, quite awkward.

Although she'd grown up with the other town children, and certainly spent time with them, she'd by no means been any measure of _friends _with them. She'd always been a peculiar child, fascinated by words and information rather than her peers compulsion, allure, interest, with the prettiest dresses they and their friends could afford, or the girls in the castle, nor with their occupation with boys and their charms.

And recently, nearing her sixteenth birthday she'd taken on a lot more duties at the dressmakers, as she had been helping her mother,m whose hands were freezing up as the years went on.

Lay Daphne took a sip from her cup, in such a ladylike way, a manner which screamed to Hermione that she had been taught how to do so since she was but a child, and so Hermione felt humbled, and attempted to mimic the affect.

"Lady Hermione," Daphne set her china down on the saucer and looked up at Hermione who quickly followed her example and looked up in response. "I am sure that . . . while I do not wish to disrespect," she nodded at Hermione, having seemed to think her words over. "You were not brought up a noble woman, and therefore you may be . . . lacking in some areas."

Even as Hermione flushed red, feeling rather humiliated, Daphne shook her head. "I did not mean to say so out of spite - rather I feel that you would benefit, not only yourself, but our peoples and the kingdom as a whole, if you were to be educated in the courtly ways. While the Queen is always thoughtful, what with the rush to prepare for the wedding of her son, she has misplaced some of her thoughts she mentioned before, and thereof, you were left without. I mean no harm, but I was talking to her Grace after our dining yesterday, and it occurred to me that you were without the skills of horse riding and dancing, although you have such neat needlework," with that it occurred to Hermione that Daphne was rather cunning, as the blonde patted her hand with heart. She was almost, very nearly, critiquing Hermione, with words that could very well be taken as an insult in this court, yet she said it with such a honeyed tone, and innocent eyes, with a compliment slipped in on the side. "We also are aware that your hair . . . has been neglected."

"Neglected?" Here Hermione was surprised - she thought that Hannah had been taking good care of it.

"I mean no harm," Lady Daphne shook her hair once more and took a sip of her tea, and pierced the cake in front of her with her fork, and placed the bite onto her tongue. "I simply was saying that it was lacking in contrast to other ladies. It is not dressed up, nor has it been treated with the proper oils."

"I thought Hannah-" Hermione was cut off by the elegant shake of Daphne's head, her curls shaking slightly.

"Hannah is a fine maid, but she's just that - a maid. We shall order in a set, a team to properly groom were meant to meet with them yesterday, but then you met with the Prince and well . . . " Daphne sighs, like she's exhausted.

"Lady Daphne," Hermione says quietly, and is at once struck at how mild mannered she has been since she has arrived, a slightly uncharacteristic move on her part, although she has always been one to follow authorities guidelines. "Was the Prince . . . was he always like _this_?"

Despite how relaxed the two have been, and how kind Daphne has been to her, assuring Hermione that they were to be friends, she knows that she, despite being engaged to the man, has no right to be asking this. Despite her alleviated status, she is still just a towns girl, a normal, ordinary, girl, and he was the _Prince_. So Hermione waits for Lady Daphne to flare her nostrils and ask "like what?" which is the response you'd expect from an improper question like the one she just asked. She would of apologised and blushed, because she knew how to react to that. What she didn't know how to react to was exactly what Daphne did.

Once more, the blonde's china met her saucer and she exhaled loudly, before pressing cool fingertips to her forehead. "Hermione," she sighs, and a melancholy infused mask covers her dainty face. "Draco . . . was a complicated child. His father . . . they never had the best relationship, although he always admired the King. Admired his strength, intelligence, fashion. Admired a great many things, and so, in many ways, tried to become as like to him as he could. The former King was never an . . . affectionate man, and the young Prince was very much upset over his fathers . . . detachment. The King's detachment was very damaging to the young Prince and even when he passed on . . . well he turned towards other pleasures to dull the pain," Daphne patted Hermione's hand once more. "It's not an acceptable notion, but it is understandable."

"You mentioned before that His Grace was engaged before?"Hermione asked, frowning.

"The Lady Parkinson and he were to wed, although it was never officially announced," Lady Daphne sipped her tea once more. "The King Lucius had always had an agreement with her father, and the Queen Regent saw fit to break it, deciding that the relationship would not benefit the kingdom in the way your own shall. The Master Brother Dumbledore agreed of course and advised that her son take a maiden of Avelie's hand in marriage, and so Queen Narcissa arranged for you to come. She then had to inform His Grace, although she chose to leave that up to his mentor, Lord Snape."

"The Lady Parkinson is not too pleased with this arrangement?" Hermione frowned, recalling the darkly coloured woman's stern demeanour and frown.

"I have known Lady Pansy since I was a child - we very much grew up together, however she has always web one to succumb to selfish tendencies and as such, she has decided to take her anger out on, well, you," Lady Daphne scooped up the last of her cake, before wrapping her lips around her fork and consuming the buttery morsel.

Although Hermione was not completely oblivious, and knew well that ladies had the tendency to gossip to and about one another, she was not oblivious enough to not know that what Lady Daphne is telling her is very confidential. A judgement of another's character was only to be shared between close friends, and Hermione and the Lady had known each other for but a day.

"You mustn't be upset at the Lady - one of her faults is she too often allows her anger to consume her person and as suchAllows herself to be seen as taking a slight against another's character, which often ends in a rather . . . dramatic situation. Not to slight against your skills Lady Hermione, but Pansy always wins," Daphne gave a slight curl of her lips, her pale green eyes glinting.

"What happens to them?" Hermione asked.

"Happens to who?" Daphne frowned.

"The others that she wins against."

"They leave the castle," Daphne shrugged.

"I see."

After Hermione dined with Lady Daphne, she was taken out by Duchess Potter, who insisted she knew the perfect place for a picnic.

Having arrived outside of the castle, on the grounds where Hannah had escorted her, Hermione waited for Duchess Potter to arrive. The redhead did arrive quickly, once more running towards the brunette, wearing a pleasing dress of cream yellow, which accompanied the sunshine prettily. "Lady Hermione!" Ginny exclaimed with a grin , before pulling out a fan and halfheartedly attempting to open it to try and cool her flushed face before sighing. " I have no idea how to use one of these damned things, and yet they insist that I carry one and Lord forbid I don't use it."

Hermione quickly summarised, and reaffirmed her thoughts from yesterday where she had been painted with the impression that Ginny Potter was not a a woman who seemed to follow societies expectations. Although she herself didn't carry a fan, nor did she know had to use one. She also knew that while her father occasionally swore once in a while, women, especially ladies, weren't meant to be using such vulgar language.

"I've got a carriage coming," Ginny smiled. "Harry's."

"Harry's?" Hermione questioned.

"My husband," Ginny smiled even as the carriage pulled up, drawn by two black horses and moving towards them. "Coming?" She cocked an eyebrow and opened the carriage door herself,waving away the driver who had attempted to drop down to help her.

Hermione smiled and joined her in the carriage.

As the horses started moving, Ginny dissolved any tension that might of remained between the two, with chattering about her friends, Luna and Neville, her husband and her brothers. Hermione learned quickly that she had six brothers (_six_ like Hermione hadn't found it hard enough to think of growing up with _one_ sibling) and that she had (to much controversy) spent her childhood playing games, and running about with her brothers and their friends, one of which was her own husband.

After a ride, they departed and Hermione found herself wondering when indeed she would meet with her peculiar husband to be.

* * *

_So sorry for the wait, I have been so busy (watching TV ahah) started Orphan Black, Teen Wolf (and finished both) as well as Hart of Dixie this weekend. Doyou guys watch any? Also any THG fans should of already read When The Moon Fell in Love With the Sun by Mejhiren - it's simply gorgeous and so well written, and you can't believe how much you have wanted this until you read it! As always tell me what you think and your thoughts about the characters! Much love, Louisa xx_


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